In Return
by Warmongerfemme
Summary: She had given up loving parents in exchange for the chance to perform magic. One time in her life, she had dreamed for nothing more. But now, her inability to perform magic and to understand it properly would kill her. When he had feared for his life, she had not even thought to deny him. He hadn't even given her a chance to do so. Draco/OC Partner/followup fic to In Fear of Death


She had failed him one too many times. It was clear now, she was not as skilled as they had all believed and she fell far below her own hopes and expectations. The spell itself was relatively simple; it was reading the echoes that proved too difficult. No matter how many times she did it; watching her family perform the spell and read its results was not firsthand experience. She had always assumed she would be able to do it when the time came, but it had come and she was horribly unprepared.

Amelia Hargrave was not yet a tracker; she was not her young and ruthless cousins recently of age, nor the powerful patriarch that was her grandfather. Potter and his friends had escaped them easily, apparating beyond their reach. Her utter failure to_ track _them, to do what her family was known for made her had angered the dark lord greatly. This would be the death of her, of that she was sure. A hound that couldn't follow a trail was of no use to a hunter and would only prove a burden. So now she could only wait to see what her death would entail.

The small tent she'd erected as her home gave her no solace as she paged through a tattered children's book, reading it's tales below her breath. The Hargrave family had no room for sellouts like her; Her grandfather had been sure to assure her of that when he banned her from their home. It hadn't come as a surprise, no, but it had been painful and left her with nowhere to shelter. An old tent and expansion spell were the only thing that kept her warm and dry, but it did very little to comfort one in times of need. Instead, Amelia turned to the one thing that she had taken from her magicless childhood, the book of fairy tales her father had read to her nightly. As a child, she had no way of knowing they were true. No child would know that witches and wizards existed, that the proper spell could allow one to fly upon a broom, and that there really _were_ letters sent to young children inviting them to a school of magic. One time in her life, she had dreamed for nothing more. She had given up loving parents in exchange for the chance to perform magic. She had been a disillusioned child and Cowal Hargrave had been a cruel, vindictive man to make such an offer to a clueless child.

And now, her inability to perform magic and to understand it properly would kill her. Amelia clenched her eyes shut to stop the tears threatening to spill, clutching the fairytales to her chest. The sobs caught in her throat and rocked her body, causing her to wheeze, lungs fighting for air. Part of her was screaming for her to run, to try and fight or hide or do anything to save her life or prolong it, but another part had given up. It said to roll over and wait for the killing blow, only hoping it would be quick. She did not want to live in fear, running from place to place by herself until she couldn't outrun Him anymore. There were other Hargrave's that he would collect and if he really wished her dead, they wouldn't care that she was family. The snatchers would find her if her own family wasn't sent and then the common people would turn her in hoping for something in return. No one was coming to save her and she could never hope to make it out on her own.

Delicate fingertips traced the bent spine of the book pressed over her heart, following the strange shapes that created the letters spread along its length. She wished she could be a child again, curled below her blankets with her head in her father's lap, his hand in her hair as he told her stories not even written on the book's pages. He would smile as he told her them, like he had lived the tales himself. It was all Amelia wished that she could go back to that blissful ignorance.

The constant drip of rain on her tent drowned out the sound of his approach and entry, soothing her senses from their fear high. She was a painful sight, curled on top a pile of blankets that took the place of a bed. One of her hands twisted in the dark mess of her hair looked especially pale, the knuckles painfully white as she clenched the strands. Her body shook as she sobbed, the noises dry and rattling. It was clear she had been crying for some time.

For a moment he wondered if he should just turn and leave before she realized he'd come. His presence wouldn't really change anything, after all. She would still face Voldemort's disappointment; she would still meet her death for failing him. But if he left now, she would die alone and in fear. One look at her and he knew she did not deserve that. No one did.

She didn't hear him as he approached, didn't even realize he was there until he touched the hand tangled into her hair. She jolted, eyes painfully wide and red, body stiff, her hand raised to protect her face, the other holding a book tight to her chest. Hands raised, he kneeled, hushing her.. Gently he reached to wrap a hand around her wrist, his fingertips pressing against the mark burned into her skin as he moved it from her face. "I'm not here for him, you can relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

With his reassurance, she fell apart; arms falling limp as she sobbed openly, sending the book she held to the floor between them. The noises she made bothered him, annoyed the part of him who had yet to crumble under his indecisions. Draco sat, choosing to make himself comfortable before pulling her into his arms awkwardly. She could have cared less how he held her, leaning to him as she cried herself dry again. Shaky and lost, choking on her words she mumbled, "I don't want to die. I don't. I joined him so I had a better chance to live and it's all backfiring."

Her hands went to cover her face and she hiccupped into them, wiping at her eyes roughly. He sighed, rubbing her shoulders. There was not much he could do for her, it wasn't like he could hide her away or bargain for her life. His life was of no more importance to their Lord than hers. As she continued under her breath, he reached around her to lift the tattered book from her lap. Opening it to a random page, he read silently, perplexed by what he found. The storied all followed the lives of two Hogwarts students. Most of the stories were simple; retellings of Quidditch games or classes, things he didn't think were book-worthy.

"My father wrote it," she managed, turning the pages to the end, where a set of initials were carved into the inside of the back cover. Running her fingers over the letters, a pair that looked to have been done by a distinctly childlike hand, she told him, "My parents told me magic only existed in fairytales and my father read me his own memories. Every story in it is about him and my mother and their time at Hogwarts. Things he wanted me to know, things he wanted to share with me." He heard her as she swallowed, her voice still shaky but not as strained,"I always liked it when he would read to me about the Great Hall and the Sorting Ceremony. It sounded so incredibly magical."

There was a hint of a laugh in her voice as she complimented it and he found himself chuckling, "Not exactly as exciting in the flesh?"

She smiled as she answered him, shaking her head, "Even better, actually. I could have never imagined it the way it really is. Magic is so much more amazing than it seems in stories. When you don't know it exists, you can't even begin to comprehend it." Draco tried to imagine that and he found that he couldn't. Magic had been entwined with his life before he was even born. To him, the idea of being ignorant of magic as a wizard was so…wrong. There was no better word for it, it was simply wrong.

Amelia's voice disrupted his thoughts, bringing back to just why he had paid her a visit in the first place, "Draco, can I ask something of you?" Her voice was quiet, almost sheepish, as if she feared he would deny her.

"Of course," he answered, firm and without question. When he had feared for his life, she had not even thought to deny him. He hadn't even given her a chance to do so.

She licked her lips, swallowing again before sighing, "Would you read me a passage from this book? Any one of them would do, the shortest one you can find, even." Her words rushed together and she shook a bit; he could hear the fear in her voice again, "I just- when I was a child, I fell asleep to these stories. I don't want to sit and wait for him to call on me. I'd rather take my own life than wait for it."

Honestly, he wished she wouldn't have addressed it like that. He had never had it in him to take a life and he didn't care for the idea of it. Yes, he would do and had done horribly cruel things and had seen far worse, but murder still made him sick. Beginning to turn the pages, he looked for a passage he would read. Carefully, the dark haired girl readjusted herself in his arms. By the time she had made herself comfortable, he'd found what he'd been looking for.

Taking a deep breath, Draco began, "The boy had never seen anything so magnificent, so huge, so utterly _magical_. The room was the biggest he'd ever set foot in and he ached for the chance to run about it, touching and exploring everything within his reach. Gargoyles of four different sorts were suspended from the walls, holding bowls of fire– later he would find that they represented the houses of the school. For now however, he found them both frightening and charming. The tables that stretched out before him were so incredibly long, he imagined that they could seat everyone he'd ever met and then more! And above him! Oh, the ceiling was simply the best part. Candles floated in the air entirely by themselves and their flames flickered and danced like little stars. His eyes however were attracted to the heavens themselves, the ones that looked as if they would send rain pouring down on his head at any moment, from within the building! Too excited to control himself, he pulled on the sleeve of the children closest to him, and pointed, shouting, "Do you see that? Do you? How is it possible? The sky's inside, the sun and clouds and all!" Some of them marveled with him, few others seemed unimpressed, as if they'd seen it all before.

As he stopped to breathe, he looked to see Amelia's eyes closed and a small smile on her face. It brought one to his, not that one wasn't forming as he read. In all the times he'd seen the Great Hall, he'd never really taken the time to see it like _this, _and he wondered how Amelia saw it and how it could possibly be any more magical than the way her father had described it in his tales. The rain outside continued to patter down, thunder claps echoing from somewhere in the distance as he began to read again, "No matter the reaction of the other children, the boy continued to marvel as he walked further into the room. Ahead of them all sat another incredibly long table—he had to stop and wonder how in the world they'd been made, it must have taken the world's biggest trees to make such things! This table however had individual chairs, and in the center sat a magnificent thrown, something fit for the richest of kings. Gold and shimmering, it commanded attention and he actually felt somewhat fearful of whoever would sit in it. Around him, the other children began to sit in small groups and around them, adults began to file in. He looked around, worried he'd have to sit alone as he'd not spent much time making any friends, too busy gaping at the castle he'd now be calling home. That was when she caught his eye—the girl he'd shared a seat with on the train. Her smile was what gave her away, wide and wild, she looked so happy to be there, surrounded by all the magic, just as he was.

Another passage followed where he stopped, but it was rather long and with a look to Amelia, he decided it wasn't needed. She'd fallen asleep, just as she had hoped, and looked content against his shoulder. Draco set the book to the side of the blankets they sat on, brushing a hand through her hair gently. The rain outside had picked up considerably and he honestly did not want to walk in it, nor risk waking Amelia by apparating out and closer to his home. Carefully, he laid her back onto the blankets and made himself comfortable beside her. If she was going to face death, at least she wouldn't have to do it alone.


End file.
